


Rapprochement

by linguamortua



Category: James Bond (Movies), RED (Movies)
Genre: Espionage, F/F, Nostalgia, Old Flames, Past Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-27
Updated: 2018-01-27
Packaged: 2019-03-10 08:19:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13498164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/linguamortua/pseuds/linguamortua
Summary: Victoria is yet to successfully outrun her past, no matter how hard she tries. Perhaps she doesn't really want to.





	Rapprochement

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Prinzenhasserin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prinzenhasserin/gifts).



> Hi, Chocobox friend! This pairing jumped out at me as something really clever. I hope this ficlet appeals.

A hotel, a rainy spring evening, a thin manila folder. A disinterested concierge and a faded, almost-empty hotel bar. Last renovation, circa 1986. Not for the first time in her life, Victoria suspects that she may be a little overdressed. She folds her manicured hands conspicuously on the table, covering a constellation of circular stains. She itches to reach for the folder.

‘You understand that I was never here,’ says her contact. Victoria inclines her head.

‘Of course.’

‘I shall be vexed, Victoria, should I hear the chirping of little birds.’

‘I can be discreet.’

‘That must be a recent development.’ With age has come a measure of restraint, and so Victoria smiles coldly in response and says nothing. She lets the silence extend so that the other woman is required to break it and thus lose face. ‘Let’s not waste time. Do you have the documents?’

Victoria curls two fingers into her sleeve and detaches the tiny USB key from her bracelet. She shifts and palms it across the table. Despite her contact’s crabbed, arthritic hands, the key disappears with remarkable speed and subtlety. 

‘I hope you realise how bloody hard those blueprints were to acquire,’ Victoria says tartly. And M, chief spymaster, pillar of British intelligence, former trainer of spies, reported handler to 007 himself and—irrelevantly, these days—Victoria’s former lover, smiles at her with genuine warmth.

‘Why else do we play the game?’ She sounds almost whimsical. She presses the folder across the table.

‘I suppose all you had to do was walk in and take it?’ Victoria asks, trying to distract from the way she almost snatches the cardstock.

‘Seniority is the product of both tenure and loyalty.’ Under the reproach, there is pain. Victoria pushes down her guilt. She is very well practiced at that.

‘One can’t take these things personally,’ she says.

‘Don’t be callous, dear; it doesn’t suit you.’

Victoria concedes the point by not arguing it. Then, conciliation.

‘Shall we have a drink together?’

‘I shouldn’t.’ M grimaces. ‘Heart medication.’

‘But you will?’ Victoria tries not to sound wheedling; still, she hopes, maybe vainly, that M wants this furtive, shared moment as much as she herself does.

‘A cognac, then. For old times’ sake.’

They order and wait in suddenly companionable silence. It is not necessary now to hash out old betrayals or heartbreaks—to be here is enough, because both are taking extraordinary risks. Taking risks for love was a weakness that Victoria had learned from M. The older she got, the less sure she was that it was a weakness.

The drinks arrive, in too-heavy, unfashionable glasses. It is excellent cognac and they sip it slowly. The bartender slowly polishes the bar into something like a shine, and when he reaches the end of it he goes back and painstakingly tackles the metalwork. Piaf’s knowing voice floats through the speakers.

M finishes her drink, dabs her lips with a napkin and neatly reapplies the barest touch of lipstick. Then she stands up with excruciating care, minding the old hip wound. ‘Do take care of yourself, double oh four,’ she says, although the number has been retired for years.

‘I always do, Madeline,’ Victoria replies. After all, she learned from the best.


End file.
